The line is where the night lies: Superstitious
by GolnethWolfHowl
Summary: The line is where the night lies especially in Santa Carla California , murder capital of the world. Molly Is called to its charismatic charm and care free attitude like the wolf is to the moon. One night in a diner Molly meets an older gentleman named Max who offers and pays for her meal, and a conversation with him Ignites a mystery hiding in the shadows of Santa Carla.


_**Authors notes: **  
_Howdy! This is my very first fanfiction and i'm rather proud of it! I'm sorry the boys, My Oc or really anything other than the town has been introduced just yet. This is really a prologue and I felt like It needed to be posted first before I actually introduced anything. So if you read it and are like WTF, you now know. The boys will be introduced soon! I want this to be a quality Fanfic, so please bare with me!  
**_Disclaimer:_** **I do NOT own the lost boys or anything related to the movie, Characters/music/events etc. etc. I own Molly, Eddie, Cheyenne and specific places that will be introduced as the story progresses.  
**

* * *

**Superstitious**

Not one person would have known the truth, no one in a million years _**could**_ have known the truth. They knew of a truth but did anyone really /_**want**_**/**to know the truth to what it was? about what went on when the lights went out?  
It was an actuality that was laying in wait somewhere within the cover of nightfall.  
A faceless monster stalking the dark corners of their thoughts, feeding from fear and the outlook of what was to come, and with its shadow cast upon the town of Santa Carla it reigned supreme over them.  
There had been no real beginning to this plague, to no ones memory at least. Santa Carla they would all say had always had a peculiar funk about it; a musky scent that never went away and some kind of old secret that had been known but no one knew what it was exactly.

The town had been named the murder capital of the world, right on the back side of the welcome billboard just a few miles out from one of the only remaining carnival boardwalks in America.  
Its a trouble in paradise sort of situation; Underneath the beautiful sands and vibrant and bold attractions there was something sinister at work, only rearing its head when opportunity knocked at its door. And it would jump for it, and people turned up dead when it did.

Santa Carla is afraid, was afraid and had always been Afraid. Afraid of the night, scared of what was lurking in the shadows outside their homes, in the woods, in the closets, hiding in the dark hallways of homes and buildings.  
That thing, that sound, that sound that thing!  
That weird something that only went bump in the night and twisted images cursed your mind as you could only imagine what it was.  
What was knocking at the window?  
What was shuffling around in the attic?  
Who was tapping on the walls?  
Was that the cat or was that the Dog?  
The thing that chased you in the back of your mind as you walked towards your bedroom at night couldn't have been more real.  
The lights all shut off, the world fading into an unnerving silence as you tread deeper. You suddenly feel your back tighten up in suspense as the thought of something watching you becomes more and more of a reality.

Then it suddenly becomes far to real for you and with another step you're racing for the safety of your bed as if your ass were caught on fire. The dim light at the end of the dark hallway poured out form your room and you race to get there, but with each step you took it took one, too.  
You know its right behind you, its gaining on you, stretching out for you with its long, parched fingers ready to suck you back into the dark where the unthinkable would happen.  
When suddenly you break into the light and that thing filters away pulling back into the darkness and you were home free because you were in your room.  
You're safe from the boogeyman and the world sets back into place. The fear is gone and then you laugh at it knowing that such a notion wasn't real, that _**thing**_ wasn't real and with that chiseled into your mind you fade away into sleep with ease.

The thing in Santa Carla however is real, and if ran from it in the hallway and you got to you room there was no home free, you weren't safe and you wouldn't be laughing because you'd be screaming as it tore you apart, screaming the last scream you'd ever scream. Now you were just another brick in the wall.

Santa Carla's people had been long ago silenced by the inevitability of that familiar darkness that hovered over their seaside home.  
People turned up dead, people turned up missing and were never heard from again, were presumed dead or they were presumed gone;  
Because this is the Murder Capital of the world!


End file.
